11:02am, 27^th November 2009

Today’s your birthday.

Happy Birthday.

Or not.

You didn’t come to school today.

I was really hoping to at least give you a birthday card.

I spent two weeks drafting the pathetic message.

I proof read it about a hundred and thirty times.

To recite it off by heart would have been almost too easy.

Do I dare hand deliver it to your house?

I recall standing at your door once, but even that visit was unofficial.

If it wasn’t for the class president who needed his text book back; I wouldn’t have set foot anywhere near your place.

It seems as though it were merely yesterday that you answered our knocks.

You were wearing a plain black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants.

Your house was built on slightly higher ground I couldn’t see the embroidery on your hat. I remember it had a bit of red though.

Would it be inappropriate to suddenly deliver such a thing to your house?

It really isn’t my territory to step on.

Most people don’t visit people they’re not entirely close to.

Then again how close are we?

Funny, that after all this time; it’s only now that such a question’s sprung to mind.

I guess we’re somewhat along the line of acquaintance and stranger.

Maybe visiting isn’t such a good idea after all.